seethingblue's Diaryland Diary

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churches

as quiet as churches,

the front porch after the rain,

the sound of tree frogs against the windows

and all those cobwebs,

i want to fold myself up in small packages to send where ever you may be

and pull you out of old memories

that have dried like glue

and are beginning to unstick

with all this present decay.

i picture you in golds

and maybe reds

and strong strokes

and maybe two parts cream in coffee

held securely in gloved hands

as quiet as i hold myself in

as careful walking against traffic on the road

i cannot hold it in

14:48 - 20 November, 2003

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